


insomniac

by thewordweaver



Series: there was no saving you. [1]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, except it's all hurt and no comfort, lapslock, this is post-Jumin route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 03:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8384731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewordweaver/pseuds/thewordweaver
Summary: You never sleep quite the same anymore.





	

**Author's Note:**

> TOTALLY forgot to add that this is the Seven post-Jumin route which was an important piece of information I really should have remembered sooner lmao...

## restlessness

 

tick.

tick.

tick.

you toss. you turn.

tick.

tick.

tick.

you don't know _when_ it happened, but your bed doesn't feel the same anymore. the place where you once escaped deliberation is suddenly the place where they now _flourish_ , vivid violent demons demanding your attention.

you run your hands down your face; over a creased forehead, screwed eyelids; over a wrinkled nose, chapped lips.

with a deep inhale and a heavy exhale, you throw your arms out to your sides, studying the slate gray ceiling above. but that can only do so much for you now. knowing it will just add to your struggle, you turn to your left and reach for your phone, its bright screen giving you the time.

three am, a morning too early.

groaning, you toss it back to the nightstand, returning to your previous position and willing yourself to _sleep_.

tick.

tick.

tick.

damning the God you begin to resent, you throw yourself forward, screwing this senseless charade. with one more pull of your face, you stand, trudging over to the one thing you wanted to avoid.

its low hum is a siren's call, willing you to it even when you wish to escape.

within a few clicks, it appears before you. the object of your affliction, a building in the mountains. it has continued to perverse what little shred of your sanity remained these days, though there had never been much to begin with. your encounter left you challenging everything you had once thought you knew.

regarding the cult.

regarding the goal.

regarding _him_.

you hadn't realised your teeth clench and your nails break skin until your phone chimes behind you. a slight panic runs through you as it startles you out of your trance.

making no move to check, you figure it's another chatroom.

but at this point, can you really say for certain?

right now, all you _need_ is solid answers, answers that you see no one's willing to give you. you can only hope the way to find them is to do what you do best.

maybe then you would find rest.

* * *

thump.

thump.

thump.

you gasp. you shout.

thump.

thump.

thump.

he's here, he's here and he's real, cursing you for sinning, abandoning, _forgetting_. but doesn't he know all of it, _everything_ is for him?

this isn't your brother; where was he, happy, basking in sunlight; smile so wide, face split in two; golden eyes that mimicked yours, bright as the sun?

six years ago, buried.

wondering, just how many of those years had _he_ been truthful with what he had told you?

thump.

thump.

thump.

your skin is slick with sweat, heart racing as you begin to wake. the stiffness in your neck tells you just how long you had been out in the only place sleep will find you now.

even while in its embrace, it offers you no haven for tranquility.

creaking and cracking, you rise, rubbing at the tightness in your shoulder. you drag heavy feet that shuffle to the bathroom, squinting as the light pierces ill-braced eyes. the phantom in the mirror startles you, its sunken, darkened circles and pallor skin an appalling shell of what it had once been. you pull red strands away from your face as the water hits you; its burning sting reminds you that you're still alive somehow.

breathing and beating.

warring and wearing.

suffering and _suffocating._

the nightmare loops through your brain; the same one for two weeks now. the dismal daunting images imprint themselves within your mind, dwelling in a home they aren't welcome.

the hope that it will stop fades then, doesn't it?

there are so many loose ends, only _luck_ can tie a pair together now. your thoughts flood with his words, questioning everything you've ever done to end up here.

you never sleep quite the same anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> hiya hello  
> this is the first story on this account that isn't an old cross-post from ff.net or archived away in my google drive lol  
> as fate would have it this story idea came to me when I couldn't sleep like three weeks ago and I am just now finishing it when I... couldn't sleep again lol  
> I'm still not _entirely_ satisfied with this but the last time I wrote was in April and before _that_ was literal like years ago so I'm super rusty and this is probably as good as it's gonna get for now
> 
>  
> 
> [personal twitter](http://www.twitter.com/lesimperatrices)  
> 


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